The imposing Mountain rose behind Blackthorn Orphanage.
Ancient.
Silent.
Its slopes were covered by an ancient forest.
Tall pines rose toward the sky, while enormous oaks spread their branches over nearly invisible trails.
Dense bushes, exposed roots, and moss-covered trunks transformed every stretch of the forest into a natural labyrinth.
The wind made the leaves whisper among themselves.
The smell of damp earth mingled with the scent of aged wood.
The last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the Mountain, while the sky took on deep shades of gold, red, and violet.
Beneath the dense canopy of the trees...
The light of dusk could barely reach the ground.
Little by little...
The forest sank into twilight.
Before the Mountain...
A wide stone path led toward its entrance.
Iron braziers rose on both sides of the path.
The orange light ran along the stone path, illuminating the way that led to the enormous opening carved into the Mountain.
No trail could be seen beyond the entrance.
Only darkness.
Before that path...
Two hundred orphans remained lined up in absolute silence.
All wore long black garments.
Light fabrics reinforced by leather bands wrapped around their arms, waists, and legs, allowing quick movements without restricting their bodies.
Hoods covered part of their faces.
Black masks concealed their expressions.
Each carried the weapon they had chosen, strapped to their body or held in their hands, like a natural extension of themselves.
From a distance...
They looked like a single formation.
A single will.
None of them spoke.
None looked away.
The constant crackling of the braziers was the only sound present.
At the end of the path...
Telvaris stood.
His hands crossed behind his back.
The flames reflected faintly in his golden eyes.
His gaze slowly swept over each of the rows before him.
Then...
His voice echoed among the braziers.
"Not much longer."
A brief pause.
"When the bell announces the eighteenth hour..."
"The Hunt will begin."
No reaction arose among the orphans.
"You know the rules."
"Once you cross the entrance..."
"There will be only you..."
His gaze continued sweeping over the formation.
"And the Mountain."
Silence returned to dominate the path.
The flames of the braziers continued swaying with the wind.
"At the first toll of the bell during the night..."
"Less than half the night will remain."
A brief pause.
"At the second..."
"Dawn will be near."
His gaze remained cold.
"At the third..."
"The Hunt will come to an end."
None of them looked away.
None of them breathed any louder.
Telvaris remained silent for a moment.
For the first time...
A faint smile curved his lips.
Almost imperceptible.
"The God of Death will hunt you."
"When you stand before him..."
His gaze swept over the formation one last time.
"Just say..."
DOOOONG...
The bell echoed throughout Blackthorn Orphanage.
No order was necessary.
At the same instant...
Two hundred figures advanced.
Their boots struck the stone ground in perfect synchrony.
The sound rolled across the path illuminated by the braziers.
As the formation broke toward the Mountain...
Telvaris's gaze fell upon Number Two.
A long bow remained strapped to his back.
The quiver rested over one of his shoulders.
The young man merely nodded.
Without slowing his pace...
He disappeared among the last silhouettes swallowed by the entrance of the Mountain.
Telvaris remained motionless.
His hands crossed behind his back.
His eyes remained fixed on the dark entrance.
The crackling of the braziers was once again the only sound present.
A few moments later...
A presence approached from behind him.
Slow steps.
Precise.
Toc.
Toc.
Without taking his eyes from the entrance...
Telvaris spoke.
"Try not to overdo it this time."
No answer came.
"I still need them alive."
Éreon slowly passed beside him.
Long black fabrics wrapped around his body.
The hood concealed part of his face.
The black mask hid any expression.
His presence seemed to absorb the light of the braziers as he advanced.
Strapped to his back...
Rested a long katana.
The handle remained partially hidden beneath the dark fabric, while the black sheath followed every step.
Éreon did not interrupt his walk.
He continued toward the entrance.
When only a few steps remained...
His hand rested on the katana's hilt.
Shhh...
The blade slid out of the sheath.
The steel returned a cold reflection to the flames.
Éreon crossed the entrance of the Mountain and was soon swallowed by darkness.
The crackling of the braziers disappeared.
The wind became colder.
Only the sound of his own footsteps accompanied the climb.
Toc.
Toc.
As he advanced up the mountain...
The trail narrowed between two enormous pines.
The terrain rose into a small incline.
Moss-covered rocks surrounded both sides of the path.
Thick roots crossed the path like ancient scars.
In some places...
Mist crawled close to the ground.
No voices.
No animals.
Only the silence of the forest.
Small marks could be seen on some trunks.
Old cuts.
Deep.
Scars left by countless Hunts.
Some trees still carried dried dark stains.
Dried blood.
Éreon continued walking.
His steps maintained the same rhythm.
The katana remained low beside his body.
Then...
His steps ceased.
The silence became absolute.
The wind stopped moving through the trees.
The leaves remained motionless.
Éreon did not move a single muscle.
For several moments...
Nothing happened.
Then...
Five veterans broke through the darkness.
The encirclement closed with every step.
The gleam of the sword of the veteran in front cut through the twilight.
To the right...
A veteran advanced with a dagger toward his ribs.
Beside him...
The second raised his sword, seeking his neck.
To the left...
The tip of another veteran's short spear was already advancing toward his throat.
Right behind him...
The last one closed the escape route with his own sword.
Five attacks converged upon him.
Éreon moved.
A short twist of his hips pulled his neck out of the line an instant before impact, while his left hand discreetly deflected the shaft.
The spearhead found only empty space.
The space that had belonged to the spear before...
Now belonged to Éreon.
SHLK.
The katana tore through the spearman's forearm.
The severed arm spun through the air, its hand still gripping the weapon.
"AAAAGH!"
The scream barely escaped.
The swordsman advanced from behind the agonizing spearman.
The sword descended.
Éreon spun on his own axis.
CLANG!
The katana met the enemy edge in passing.
It was enough to drive the sword against the trunk of the pine beside them.
Before the veteran could recover his guard...
The katana was already coming back.
SHLK.
The cut tore through his throat.
Blood struck the trunk behind him.
His body fell over the agonizing spearman.
Ahead...
The veteran broke the distance.
The sword came diagonally.
Éreon abandoned the left completely.
He entered the strike.
CLANG!
The katana met the sword for only an instant.
Instead of stopping it...
Éreon let his own edge slide along the enemy steel.
Their fists nearly touched.
The veteran's guard became useless.
The katana slipped beneath the guard.
SHLK.
The cut opened the veteran's abdomen from bottom to top.
The air escaped his lungs.
His fingers loosened around the grip.
One knee struck the earth.
The katana was already descending.
CLANG!
The sword coming from the right met the katana before it completed its trajectory.
The impact deflected the edge only a few centimeters.
It was enough.
At the same instant...
A dagger emerged from beneath the blades.
Short.
Silent.
Straight toward the liver.
Éreon abandoned the cut.
His body spun over his front foot.
The dagger tore only the black fabric of his garment.
Without finding flesh.
The dagger wielder twisted his wrist.
The dagger changed direction in the same movement.
Instead of the ribs...
The edge rose toward the neck.
Éreon raised the katana to follow the new line.
For a single instant...
His flank remained exposed.
It was exactly the opening the swordsman had been waiting for.
The sword returned.
Horizontal.
Seeking to separate his head from his shoulders.
Éreon lowered his center of gravity and slid forward.
The sword passed above his hood.
The dagger cut through the space where his face had been an instant before.
For a single instant...
The lines of the two veterans crossed.
It was all Éreon needed.
SHLK.
The katana emerged from bottom to top.
The cut crossed the dagger wielder's wrist.
The hand still closed around the weapon spun through the air.
"AAAH!"
The swordsman caught the arm tearing free in the corner of his eye.
Instinctively...
He pulled his sword back to protect his own line.
Too late.
Éreon had already slipped to the outside of his guard.
The katana met the sword for only an instant.
CLANG!
The edge was pushed out of line.
Before the veteran could recover his guard...
SHLK.
The katana tore through his throat.
The body was still falling...
When Éreon twisted his wrist.
The tip of the katana described a short arc.
SHLK.
The katana tore through the dagger wielder's neck before he could retreat.
Éreon remained motionless.
A single drop of blood fell from the tip of the katana.
Toc.
Without saying a word, he turned...
He began to walk.
Slow steps.
Precise.
The veteran remained on his knees.
His breathing failed.
Blood flowed between his fingers.
Beneath the black mask...
A discreet smile curved his lips.
The katana vibrated faintly.
Hummm...
Éreon's voice came out low.
Almost a whisper.
"I know..."
His fingers tightened slightly around the grip.
"Totsuka no Tsurugi..."
One more step.
"I will not hesitate."
SHLK.
Without interrupting his step...
The katana described a single arc.
THUD.
The head struck the earth.
It rolled a few handspans.
THUMP.
The body collapsed an instant later.
The katana remained low.
Thin streams of blood slowly slid along the edge.
Ping.
Ping.
The wind passed through the pines.
Taking with it the metallic smell of blood.
Far above the trail...
Number Two stopped in mid-step.
His eyes turned toward the trail disappearing between the trees.
For a brief moment...
He remained motionless.
Then...
He crouched.
The tips of his fingers touched the damp earth.
No word was spoken.
One of the veterans behind him noticed the movement.
"What is the problem?"
Number Two remained in that position for several moments.
Then...
He withdrew his hand from the ground.
His eyes remained turned toward the direction from which they had come.
Another veteran took a step forward.
"We cannot waste time."
"We haven't reached half the Mountain yet."
His gaze turned toward the darkness ahead.
"If we fall behind..."
Number Two stood.
Without saying a single word...
He merely nodded.
And soon resumed the climb.
The other veterans followed him.
Little by little...
Their silhouettes disappeared among the pines.
The forest sank back into absolute silence.